


Feed Me, Spark Me Up

by Thankyouliebe



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Aftercare, Drug Use, Guro, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lots of Fluff Despite Above Tags, M/M, Medical Kink, Needles, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thankyouliebe/pseuds/Thankyouliebe
Summary: Jules' self-indulgent roommate pushes the envelope of what exactly counts as a prescription. He finds little reason to complain.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty)
Kudos: 4





	Feed Me, Spark Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Citadeljudiciary](https://citadeljudiciary.tumblr.com/)

“Hematogylceride with tempusinae was a pretty good idea I think,” Russ mused while he peered through the lens of the microscope. Behind him, Jules was facing away, seated in a rolling chair while dissecting clear synthetic fibers that resembled muscle tissue. After swiveling around in the chair, he tilted his head to peek at the counter and watch Russ work. The lab was dimmed for the light sensitive testing and the only brightness present was the low blue glow of the counter surfaces; he watched the light reflect off of Russ’ gloves while his companion hovered an eyedropper over the scope’s slide. Russ was peering through the lens as he dropped a small amount of light purple fluid onto the glass, before combining it with the sample of blood resting on it. The two substances shifted together and bonded instead of separating or finding hostility in each other like previous attempts. He lifted his face from the scope and turned to get Jules’ attention, wearing an amusingly serious expression that shifted immediately to an excited smile when he noticed his lab partner was already paying attention. He pointed at the counter. “Look at that!”

Jules returned the smile with a small one of his own, then offered a single nod before standing to peek at the scope for himself. He dipped down and peered through the lens to confirm that the two fluids had indeed bonded together as expected.

Great, it would work perfectly. Earlier that week, Russ had mentioned something about temperature shifts inside of Red making interesting and fun differences, and they finally had free time together to work on it. There had been plenty of opportunity for Jules to finish it all on his own, but Russ had made it clear that he wanted in on the fun, so it was postponed.

And just as well—the project was a perfect way to get Russ out of his lab and instead share some time with Jules. Sure, they saw one another often enough, but…Jules found himself wanting more of it the longer they shared the apartment. He stepped back from the microscope and raised an arm to slide behind Russ’ back and pull him in for a squeeze. “Yeah, looks like that’ll work great.”

He gestured behind himself. 

“Just need to pump in some fluid to fill up the sample fibers and we can test drive its range.”   
  
Russ returned the hug and he hummed at the mention of a test. He looked over at Jules’ side of the lab, eyes set on the synth fibers. “Just muscle tissue? I thought you’d have another liver or maybe a closed circuit heart…be hard to judge what the reaction will do to organs.” His attention alternated to eye Jules, and he took advantage of his proximity to kiss his cheek.

Jules scoffed and shrugged, dismissing that concern. “He’s a big boy, it’ll be fine. There’s no installation we could fuck with and apply to him that’d do any permanent damage.” He leaned into the kiss and acknowledged it with a firm squeeze to Russ’ hip. 

The affirmation that nothing would go wrong visibly soothed all concern Russ carried and the suggestive touch inspired a snicker from him. Jules diverted the worries further with a question for the other to focus on instead.

“What’s the limit you wanted for him again?”

“Oh!” The easily excitable Rick shifted from Jules’ grip slightly as he turned to his own work again, but a hand lingered on the other’s waist as he grabbed the holopad on the table.

Jules quickly lowered it and tsk’ed gently. “Ah-ah, careful. The screen.”

“Oh right.” Russ’ voice hushed as if that had any part in the warning, and he moved between the valley of countertops away from the delicate experiment. 

He was followed closely by the other Rick and they both rounded a tall cabinet, now closer to the equipment designated for implementing experiments physically rather than testing. If one were a stranger to the surroundings, the tall devices that loomed over the surgical table in the center of the space might have looked alarming, but both Ricks hardly acknowledged the malevolent collection of tools as they stood under them. The pad was placed on top of a small, wheeled steel table next to the cabinet’s countertop and Russ tapped the screen, swiped once, and pulled up an application that projected a curved hologram into the air above the device. After sifting through a few slides on the floating monitor, he paused at a particular one with a progressive data sheet that began with a low temperature, while the end listed impossibilities in bold, red text.

“So, we agreed it would be a  _ lot _ easier to keep his core stable and maintained in a much smaller range, but his limbs and the lower half of his torso should be fine at…” He pinched the screen to widen and squinted at the numbers. “Forty-eight at the lowest. With tempusinae regulating the blood a-and transitioning temperature to shift properly from the core to the rest and vice-versa, that should be stable. Especially since...yanno, hardly any of the veins traveled through are organic anyway.”

“Mhm,” Jules watched him explain things with more interest in his visible enthusiasm than the actual information. Russ wasn’t the one who had originally modified Red—he was a helping hand and an accomplice at best—so nothing he shared was enlightening. At the same time it was a welcome reminder that his roommate didn’t find his treatment of Red, a once autocratic rogue Rick, to be unsavory. Of course, it helped that Russ had been blunt and straightforward in stating that he thought their test subject was abhorrent before his confinement, and that Jules was free to do as he pleased anyway, but...   
  
Russ' phone interrupted with a pleasant chime, causing him to stop mid-explanation and take it out of his pocket to check the screen. It was promptly silenced and he smiled again, looking back at Jules. “Do you remember what day it is?”

“Valentines Day,” Jules teased cheekily.   
  
The comment made Russ huff a laugh through his nose. “Of course. No, it’s Friday. Second Friday of the month.” The phone was slipped back into his pocket and he offered no further explanations.

Jules’ train of thought searched for an answer to that, coming up with… _ oh, right. _ “Ah. Meds day?” While it was routine, it was just infrequent enough to be something that Jules forgot about.

“Mhm!” Russ’ attention fixed on the cabinet in front of them and he rounded it again. There was a click of a shelf door opening and the distinct sound of pills and plastic before he reappeared again with an opaque orange bottle. It looked... distinctly dissimilar to the one he’d used last time, but Russ opened it with confidence and rattled a large pill out of the container and into his palm. Its casing looked gelatinous and opaque while the center glowed faintly. The last observation made Jules quirk a brow—this was far removed from the simple white pill he normally took with water. What was Russ up to?

“New ‘script or something?” Jules asked.

“Sort of,” the other answered. He opened a drawer of the cabinet and Jules’ expression shifted to attentive curiosity as individual packages containing a syringe and two needles were extracted. Were they about to play a game? Russ stepped closer and ran a gloved hand down Jules’ sleeve. “I have a different approach in mind, and assume I don’t have to twist your arm for it?”

Jules was backed up against the surgical table and a tingle of amused excitement pricked over his skin. He smirked. “Arm twisting is pretty mild for what you usually have in mind.”

“Very true. But it’s the perfect incentive, isn’t it?” Russ reflected the mischievous smile and pressed his thigh between Jules’ legs, rousing a responsive throb from the grind. The just acquired supplies were set aside and clinked against the metal table’s surface followed by both of Russ’ hands sliding over Jules’ chest, pulling up his tucked-in shirt as he went. Gloved fingertips slipped beneath the fabric and traced Jules’ skin, feeling less intimate than if they were bare, but aspects of that catered to a few of his tastes. He found little reason to complain. In contrast to the clinical touch, Russ leaned forward to kiss Jules slowly, pressing his lips gently against his cheek with care before drawing back to slip off the visor always shielding his right eye. It was discarded absentmindedly on the table and roused a loud clink, but Russ paid little attention to it. His mouth found Jules’ and pushed firmly while both of his hands returned to trying to take off the other’s shirt.

“Pretty…pretty demanding today,” Jules mumbled between Russ’ advances. 

“Just enjoying myself.”

Both chuckled at the equivoque and Jules’ coat and shirt were shrugged off. The exploratory touches continued and escalated in heat as Russ focused on dragging his tongue over Jules’ neck and sucking his collar. It was delightful, but Jules’ pants strained and his cock anticipated for more groping contact that never came. Often the other Rick took his time and just as often it frustrated Jules. He could easily be the recipient of eager, hungry touches begging to earn the luxury of touching him—why waste time with such an extensive song and dance?

“Nnngh,” Jules reached for his belt but was promptly stopped with firm hands grasping his wrists. He huffed in exasperation and curled a small disquieting smile while Russ tsk'ed and soothed.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be like that. Don’t you want to savor this while you can?”

_ Savor? _ As if there would ever or  _ could _ ever be limits to satisfaction he claimed? It was cute that Russ’ chiding brimmed with confidence, and cuter that he seemed so excited about whatever he had in mind. Jules' eyes dragged up, trailing from the other’s uniform to his neck and settling there. Crushing force against it would result in an interesting face. He’d placed his hands there before, with Russ smiling…but if he pressed harder…if he saw his face go white-

Jules felt the hands on his wrists squeeze for a moment and his attention was dragged to the present. He restrained himself and played along with the current game, reasoning that there was no logical point to indulge in the idea becoming reality, though his eyes remained fixed on the light exposed skin just shy of Russ’ uniform. "What, is some breaking involved i-in those twists?”

Russ hummed and smiled thoughtfully, releasing the other's wrists to lightly trace his fingertips over the back of Jules' hands. “No...as tempting as that may be. Your bones are no use if they are fractured and damaged. It’s essential that they remain intact.”

That insight into Russ’ intentions roused a heat in Jules’ gut. The other Rick’s train of thought deviated from his own in many ways, but there were similarities when Russ raised a hand to stroke up Jules’ chest and pause at the neck. When Russ pressed a thumb to its left side, Jules felt his pulse race beneath the other’s touch. The Medical Examiner let out a satisfied breath as the heightened blood flow was noted, and after a moment he traveled higher to cradle his jaw. The parallel of his thoughts reflecting in Russ' actions inspired a shiver.

“Damaged resources aren’t nearly as useful as pristine ones.”

__________________________

Jules lay bare on the table with his arms relaxed at his sides. Directly above him were countless metal arms, each with an instrument at the end that shined brightly in the harsh fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. He was splayed under a dome of exposure, its illumination bright and revealing with edges that sharply ended in darkness outside of the surgical table’s radius. A distinct shimmer of steel glinted in the corner of his eye and following its movement, Russ’ form revealed itself from the unviewable space and elicited ardent anticipation from his captive audience.

A gloved hand ran up his arm gently as Russ curiously stared at the skin under his touch, then clicked his tongue. He crossed his arms and leaned on Jules’ body as if it were something casual to use in such a way and waved the needle in hand as he gestured in thought. “I just can’t decide. Should this be a  _ lot _ for you, or teeter carefully between not being enough? Both are good options. I suppose it depends if you should be spoiled.”

There was a pause—Jules almost answered. But Russ was a beat ahead. “Ah, well. Hm. Fuck it.”  
  
The Medical Examiner took a step back and rolled a small table to the side of the larger one, its significance out of sight and just barely behind him. The needle was pushed into Jules’ arm with its reservoir attached at the end and a clear IV cord was connected to the hollow tube. Jules wondered what exactly its contents were. No matter what tone of fun Russ chose, he was certain that it would be wonderful, but his burgeoning curiosity inspired internal questions. _Slow release? Quick release? Was it an aphrodisiac or anesthetic?_ He knew Russ’ typical choices tended to be a mix of the two, and he privately hoped it was that, if only for how thorough and immersive Russ’ mannerisms were when that was the selected substance.  
  
“It’s quick release,” Russ knowingly answered the other's silent musings as he shifted back to reveal the table previously hidden.   
  
Oh, he was choosing _those._   
  
An oblong clear pump with a thick cord attached to its base lay on the table’s surface. It led to a small console, and next to it sat the orange bottle of pills, along with a surgical tray of instruments that were hidden by its tall brim. Sharp forceps were extracted from the tray and Russ tested its range of movement while a sudden rush of contentment washed over Jules. The cold burn of the fluid being introduced was a familiar sensation, and as it settled in warm euphoria he smirked, fully aware of its function; he inhaled deeply and turned his head to the side, tipping the best he could downwards to look at his arm. Mentally, there was clarity in his attempted actions—he could feel the tendons in his hands react and shift as he thought to move them—but his eyes saw differently. There was no movement. The surface of the table was tangible and understood as being there, and he even felt his fingertips chill as he thought to drum them on the metal, but the gesture visually was absent.

“Having trouble?”

Slowly, his head rolled forward again, in search of the swathed voice. There was deep pressure in the sound, like the comfortable force that blanketed in the bottom of a pool, and he was uncertain of its location. His gaze dragged above him slightly, then to the side. Russ’s attention to his form wasn’t as direct as he first apprehensively suspected from the tone; instead his eyes avoided the face to trace Jules’ torso with an observant hunger and a silent open and closing of the forceps, tellingly letting Jules know where Russ had calculated his intended starting point. Jules shivered and the euphoria blooming through his body prompted a small whimper to escape him. The noise made Russ’ attention dart to his face and he offered a cheerful smile that could have been thoroughly misread if Jules didn’t have so much experience in the other’s mannerisms.

“Yeah, I thought you would, babe.” He responded to his own question with playful lilt.

Jules made an attempt to form words, the tip of his tongue pressing against his teeth to produce something, but the sound projected was unintelligible and Russ moved his unoccupied hand to press a finger to his lips.    
  
“Shh, there’s no use in that. You can’t talk. You can’t move. Just enjoy the ride.”

Another quiet groan was made, and Russ carded his fingers through Jules’ hair while his eyes fixed on the rise and fall of the exposed chest beneath him. His voice was soft as it frequently was in their quiet moments. “Oh yeah, I know, it’s wonderful.”

It sure felt like it was going to be. Some aspects of the administered drug were familiar, but certain details deviated from its typical effects. There was a haze when often his cognition was sharpened, and the edges of his vision blurred. Details of the instruments above were no longer comprehensible and the lack of foundation for reality pulsed an eager throb directly south. Sometimes a sedative would be used on Ricks supervised under the knife by  _ him _ , but experiencing it for himself was a first.

Sharp metal etched through his skin directly down the center of his torso and its sting was absent, instead substituted for fiery bliss that made Jules’ breath hitch fleetingly. It exhaled into a sigh, settling comfortably while skin and muscle were split and separated by Russ’ gloved hand. He felt more cold metal on either side of the incision and glanced down to see a small lever rotate, noticeably from a very familiar retractor that spread the flesh a little wider with each turn.

“Ohhh, this is so exciting,” Russ said as he adjusted the retractor one last time. “There’s so much to collect. And all worth so much. Isn’t it strange how the market shifted to have unmodified organs be higher in demand? I mean, those can just be synthesized pretty easily...maybe personal taste is a factor.”

These topics were spoken with such light, thoughtful cadence that Jules felt insignificant in Russ' observations. He was simply a recipient and a resource, idly spoken to with no possibility of providing answers, and the deep-seated helplessness harmoniously blended with an acceptance to it all. Jules had no say in how he was harvested and there was no reason for panic because any attempt would be useless. And even in his vulnerable state on open display, the anchor of certainty that Russ would never truly let harm come to him sated any anxious doubts that attempted to rise.   
  
Russ pulled the small table closer and took the pump in hand to observe its mechanisms. Its pyrex casing was tapped and he unscrewed a small cap at the tip before removing it and setting it aside to replace with a clear tube. The end of its cord wasn’t in sight, and its purpose was briefly considered then forgotten after a beat. The blend of different sensations in the scenario were more pressing issues and Jules attempted to focus on differences in the side effects again. Thoughts were difficult to form, and more difficult were the attempts to make sense of them. Aching throbs of his open chest cavity pulsed and hindered reasonable cogitation, and the only conclusion he could attach to and consider was that there was no point in making sense of what he was being subjected to experience.

“You look happy.”

Jules’ vision was a foggy haze, but he did his best to find the source of the voice. It was familiar...its form was clear now. Russ was using something to dig around inside his body. Why? He was smiling. Smiling was good. He could feel himself smile, too. Jules’ face felt hot.   
  
“Woah...woah, this too much?” Russ reached for his face with a glove half-coated in blood and stroked his cheek. It felt incredible. Jules melted. The smear of blood spread across his cheek felt watered down. “Hey, hey babe, it’s okay.”

It was more than okay. An unrestrained giggle bubbled up and muscle tension from the movement sent shocks of bliss up his spine. Russ loomed over, close in proximity to his face, and shadowed the intense light overhead as he looked down at Jules. His silhouette glowed brilliantly while he studied his subject’s reactions closely, searchingly, and the observations’ intimacy made Jules’ exposed heart tighten. Defenseless and victim to the intensity of the drug circulating through his veins, Russ’ sudden kiss made him feel like he was falling apart, atoms splitting beneath Russ’ fingers and tiny fissures dispersing over his skin at the delicate press.

“I love you.”

Jules whined.

The cold base of the pump slid over his length and he shivered, sensitive from lack of touch. If it were possible, he’d attempt to buck into the contact, but all he could do was savor whatever may be given to him. When pressure tightened around him, he panted and fussed against Russ’ tongue incoherently; in return he was soothed and hushed with a murmur of approval, along with encouraging pets through his hair.

“You’re fine, you’re  _ fine _ , you know how much easier it is to keep blood flow during invasive removal. It’s alright.”

With an audible click, the suction began to pulse and pump satisfyingly. It was barely anything, but felt like  _ everything _ , and he groaned at the tense buildup. The sensations were too much. It was too fast. Shallow breaths fluttered in and out of Jules while Russ prodded his untouched arm, finding a space in the crook of his elbow to push another needle in. He hummed approvingly and an IV bag moved past Jules’ vision then out of sight.

“Go ahead, don’t hold back. Not...that I think you could. But don’t try. If you get off, it certainly won’t be your only chance,” Russ returned to the open cavity of Jules’ chest and in the thick haze, Jules noticed how bright and excited his smile was. Did the Medical Examiner enjoy this as much as him?   
  
Strained moans spilled from Jules as he came, heaved breaths attempting to keep pace with the euphoria, and the sounds quieted momentarily before escalating into overstimulated cries. The pump continued to move steadily, but Russ made no attempt to adjust or reprieve the sensations. In fact, his focus seemed entirely dedicated to the open flesh he began to explore. Jules felt a tight clenching strain his lungs.

“Good, good. Deep breaths, keep going.”

“I- nhh-” There was an abysmal attempt at protest, interrupted with agitated groans and Jules’ eyes closed. He surrendered and drew steadier breaths as he trembled. His cock ached at the ceaseless stimulation, but he rode it out and did his best to shift focus on the feeling of Russ’ hands. It was vague yet invasive; his touch was unidentifiable and Jules struggled to make sense of its locations. He heard another incision, although felt nothing.  _ Was it happening? _ It was happening. He slowly opened his eyes to catch Russ detaching his stomach and lifting it out of his body with one hand while the other reached inside with hemostats. There was a pressure felt, and then Russ stepped aside and out of sight.

“First one. Few more can be extracted before needing to synthesize your replacements one by one…it’s a steady start.”

Jules felt no difference in himself. Senses were so precisely honed, yet the mental fog hindered it drastically along with any reasonable assumption that could be made. All he could think about was how his cock throbbed and his body delineated the fiery intensity of whatever concoction Russ constructed.

The click of an opening box was heard, then another click as it closed, and afterwards Russ was at his patient’s side once again to remove more entrails one by one.   
  
The motions settled into a pattern and the foundation of monotony allowed for the experience to expand further. Deep, rich colors blossomed from the harsh red blood on Russ’ gloves, hemorrhaging waves of beautiful tones and blanketing Jules’ body with a mesmerizing river. The tones were heavy and floated over his skin like polychromatic gallium. Into the pool dipped Russ’ hands, and when they reappeared the vision dripped thickly in his grasp, holding masses of Jules that were uprooted and confiscated, transported to wherever the other Rick decided to place them.

The tears were acutely perceived and Russ made further attempts to soothe Jules. “We’re almost done, shh…try not to shake too much. I-I can only be so steady doing this. Be a shame if there were any permanent damage.” His words only provoked a drawn out, tremored whine and wet sobs continued.

Overwhelming pulses from the pump escalated once again and forcefully pulled Jules closer to climax and each wave of suction inspired each stream of color to throb with intensity. Those bright shades shifted about him as Russ slipped off a glove and reached for Jules’ arm. The first needle used was extracted, its absence leaving a pleasant tingle from the small puncture left behind. A quiet groan from Russ piqued Jules’ interest and he turned his head to the side, noting the blotted shades that dispersed from Russ’ clothes before his eyes dragged down. The Medical Examiner’s bare hand palmed over his restrained cock and in spite of the near unbearable overload of stimuli, a small, smug laugh left Jules. He was a pretty show and Russ couldn’t help himself—it was a fulfilling reminder that they  _ both _ made it impossible to resist each other. They were both dependent on this. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Russ’ unoccupied hand grabbed onto Jules’ thigh to steady himself and his eyes noticeably couldn’t decide what to focus on. Attention darted from the device to his subject’s culled body while he undid his belt and unzipped his fly. It looked like there was something he desperately wanted to say in the moment, but all he could manage was a string of guttural nonsense that rose up in his throat and died on his tongue as he relieved the tension with hasty thrusts of his cock.

He hunched over as he indulged himself in the act of neediness and the view twisted anticipation in Jules’ gut. Their shallow breaths filled the quiet and steadily realistic colors returned to Jules’ vision with the true silvers and blues of the surgical theatre. Slowly, his buildup tipped just shy of the edge and he trembled, anxious of the repercussions of another bout of overstimulation. But just as those worries arose, the tight walls of the pump became absent. Cool air blanketed his length and he hissed a sharp whine, relieved yet  _ frustrated _ , and his eyes darted south to see Russ disconnecting the pump’s conduit and slide the instrument over  _ himself _ .   
  
Internal conflict instantly roused; his first instinct was to grab Russ and take that pleasure for himself, but the weak twitch of his fingertips from an attempt to move his arm proved such effort useless. And worse, it was  _ hot _ . It was hot as fuck that his pleasure was overlooked and insignificant, but the ebbing drug continued to feed a hunger for touch he had no control over.

Jules lay incapable of protest as Russ tightly shut his eyes and thrust into the toy with freedom to move as he chose. The other Rick hunched over Jules and pressed his hand on the table, curling into himself as the sounds drawn from him climbed to high-pitched whines. He lost himself in the satisfying friction that was still delightful even with absence of the toy’s pressure, and moments later he spilled onto Jules, ropes of cum discharging from the apparatus’ open reservoir and onto the other’s cock and thighs.

The show of permissive superiority made Jules’ cock twitch under the mess, stiff and aching for contact, and almost immediately in response to his internal pleas, Russ’ breathing steadied while he made attempts to recover. A deep sigh left the Medical Examiner as he withdrew himself from the pump. It was discarded on the table in favor of moving his hands to spread Jules’ legs apart and bend the one closest to him. Russ dipped down and hummed contentedly before placing a wet kiss on the other’s cock, then slipped his arm in through the empty space under the other’s bent knee to wrap around his thigh and grasp his length, which elicited a small wince from Jules as it was squeezed.

“Frustrated?”

A strained hiss was the only reply Russ received and he snickered, offering a quick set of strokes in retaliation that pulled a gasp from the other.

“Yeah, yeah I know. But you’re having a good time.” The touch to the incapacitated Rick’s cock ceased and he felt Russ’ tongue drag along his skin. He wondered briefly what inspired more procrastination before he realized the possible intention.

He looked down and tilted his head to see past the mechanism still holding him open and got an  _ explicit  _ view of his partner licking up the release he covered him in, and his chest tightened at the sight before he settled his head back on the table with a small  _ thunk _ . Russ’ hand moved south and Jules heard searching taps on the table then a small click of a bottle opening. A moment after he felt cold wetness press between his cheeks. Test circles spread the lube briefly before a digit slid inside to the knuckle in a swift movement, and after a few pumps inside it retracted, followed by a more patient stretch of two pushing forward. As Russ worked with his hand, his mouth found Jules’ cock again and dipped down until the soft palate in the back was brushed against, and as always there was a muffled whine before the Rick lowered further. Distantly, Jules was impressed with how the other deftly took him in despite the stiff swell, but that thought was quickly overshadowed as friction built up and sweet contact was delivered without restraint.

It was unlikely that Russ was going to hold back further—his subject had certainly  _ earned _ completion from such strenuous work—but caution motivated Jules to focus intently on the ministrations and cling to the contact while it was a tangible possibility. He tensed while the buildup steadily escalated once again and noted…that tension was a conscious choice of movement, and carefully he made an attempt to clench his fists. They closed slowly and he tested the tendons a few more times before moving his hips slightly to try and shift upwards, but the action roused a slightly alarmed thrum from Russ as he sucked. His free hand ran up Jules’ arm and he squeezed his forearm, signaling something that was impossible to specifically understand, but it was generally understood as an indication to  _ stop _ .

Jules’ interruption resulted in exactly what he wanted. His eyes closed and the thrusts curled more firmly inside him while Russ’ cheeks hollowed as he worked, and moments later he pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves, receiving a satisfied moan of approval. Breathing hitched and shallowed as Jules attempted to keep pace with the stimulation, and strained arteries struggled to circulate blood through his body. His fists clenched again and he whined, and the hand on his arm lowered to clasp in his own, offering an affirming squeeze. The attentive contact exuded a welcome, consoling pressure, and a few focused moments later, Jules came into the wet cavern of Russ’ throat with a rumble of contentment.

The movements slowed and Russ’ fingers dissipated in their rhythm while Jules rode out the last of the high. He raised his mouth from Jules’ cock and panted, then rested his cheek against the other’s propped up thigh. Stillness comfortably seeped into the moment while they caught their breath and settled snugly between them as Russ stroked his thumb over the back of Jules’ hand. It was broken with the Medical Examiner moving to kiss his thigh one last time before he retracted his fingers and slowly rose to his feet once again.

“One second,” he said as he half turned, and he added cheekily, “don’t go anywhere.”

Jules watched Russ leave the well lit dome, then heard the sound of him running water in a nearby sink. Alone for a moment, he basked in the afterglow of the thorough stress relief he’d just received. He felt smug—his roommate always knew exactly what he was down for and delivered without needing detailed instruction. There was something deeply satisfying about someone knowing precisely what to give without modifications to encourage attentive offers of relief, though…if considered… _ yeah, Russ would look cute as fuck in some nurse getup with tacky little implanted wings. _

The tap closed and the just privately objectified Rick returned to Jules’ side with a glass of water, cloth, and a new set of disposable gloves that he quickly pulled on. As he deftly removed the forceps from the open cavity and turned the retractor's lever, Jules' mind stayed fixed on the new adorable fantasy of his partner. He hardly paid attention as all invasive devices were taken out and put aside, instead eyeing the Rick's issued uniform and what modifications could be made to make it look revealing and cute. 

Eventually, Russ noticed his stares, and he smirked at him as he worked. "What?"

Jules shrugged and chuckled, and Russ quirked a brow. He looked curious, as if he caught onto the other’s train of thought, or at least its intention, and his amusing expressions simply roused the quiet laughs to continue.

The console atop the small tables' surface was pulled closer and Russ flicked a switch. A quiet, yet audible shift of hydraulic metal sounds grinded down from a panel in the ceiling and lowered towards Jules’ body. Two small instruments resembling that of dentist rotary tools hovered over his torso and dispersed faintly glowing white lasers that promptly danced over the incision, crossing each other’s lines and pulling the skin and bone closer together.

While they seamlessly stitched the open wound closed, Russ raised the damp cloth to the others cheek and first ran it across his closed eyes. Then it gently moved over his skin, wiping it free of the blood previously painted over it. On the clean surface Russ planted another kiss, and Jules hummed blithely.

“I hope you’re not worried,” Russ said softly. His fingers traced down Jules’ now deftly clean chest, free of blemishes from the invasive endeavors it had endured. “You’re all in one piece, it was just the…ah, hold on.”

Russ reached for the side table again and plucked the pill bottle from it, shaking it between two fingers to show off the few remaining doses inside. “The bottle was just a convenient place to store these.” It was opened and one of the gel pills rolled into his palm. He looked up at Jules to make sure he was paying attention, excited to show off a part of their game, and he picked a pair of forceps from the table to pinch the orb firmly. The clear surface swelled and bubbled in its casing as the color shifted to deep fleshy red. Then, it suddenly burst and expanded, and mutated in shape for a few seconds before settling into a weighty, very  _ real _ looking organ. It was unidentifiable at a glance, but undeniably something that could be confused as a piece of Jules if outside sobriety.

“See? It was this! They don’t function for anything in particular—I-I-I was just fucking around a few nights ago and ran into it on a whim during a late night shift. Thought it’d be a good tool for illusion in this!” Russ squished the piece of faux flesh, slightly sticky with no liquid to slick against, and walked out of view with it, moving in the same direction he’d gone when he’d ‘removed’ each organ before. Jules heard the sound of a slot opening, followed by a wet slide, and he giggled at the ridiculous collection of noises. Was that the garbage chute? Did Russ just dump a fake spleen in the trash?

When Russ returned, the smile was still on Jules’ face, and it inspired the other Rick to reflect it. “I know, I know. I bet it’s a relief, though. Knowing the shit I was up to.” He removed his gloves and tossed them onto the table before reaching out towards Jules’ face to cup his cheek. “Was it good? You feel pretty chill, right?”

Jules tested the ability to form words once again, but only slurred more incoherency. It made Russ giggle.

“Poor you.”

The attempt’s intention was to reassure Russ that he was the least threatening thing to ever dig in Jules’ guts, but even with that message lost, his lack of distress seemed clear enough to the Medical Examiner as he toweled off the other Rick with care. Afterwards, Russ made quick work of the various devices used and moved away again to dispense them in the sanitization vault, identified by Jules due to its distinctive whirr. He tried to raise his arm and did so successfully—albeit slowly—and his hand fell onto his torso. The tendons were flexed experimentally again and he tried a deep breath with his lungs, reaffirming how they expanded in his closed chest. When Russ returned, he lifted the glass of water and pressed its cool pleasant surface to Jules’ cheek, earning a contented murmur.

“That’s better, I think it’d work if you tried now,” Russ said as he placed the glass in the other’s hand. It was held carefully.

“Jeeeesus Chriiist, man,” Jules drawled out with more emphasis than necessary.

The dramatic signal of coherency made Russ sputter laughter and he pressed his forehead to Jules’ shoulder, giggling incessantly. He shifted back with Jules’ movements as the recovering Rick moved to sit properly, and he propped himself up on his elbow to take a sip of water. The sustenance provided a bit of clarity, and he quickly took long pulls from the glass to better balance his system. Midazolam? Christ, it must have been thoroughly fucked with if it elicited those kinds of visions. It wasn’t just a high dose. It was enhanced quite a lot.

Russ sighed after his bout of giddiness and asked again what Jules’ state was. “Did you have a good time?”

“Are you kidding?” Jules swirled the remains of his drink and watched the clear substance spin, checking if any of the drug’s visual effects remained. “That was fucking great. That shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Oh yeah, ‘scuuuse me for making sure you didn’t think you were dying.” Russ lightly defended himself and stood upright, propping his hands on the table. “It’s good to check if what I added worked properly! Midz can be wild, yanno, but I added a bit of statheredine and caderium to make it easier. Keep that trip tied down so the visual aspect didn’t stray from whatever I did. I-it just reacted to stuff in the moment.”

“Uh-huh.” He listened to Russ rattle off and made no efforts to stop him. If he wanted to explain his easily identifiable plans, so be it. Despite the belittling internal commentary, the smirk on his face remained; he did find it genuinely cute when his roommate went off about his rudimentary discoveries. “Was that theme of the day? Tying things down?”

“Yes, and from your colorful responses to it I think I did a damn good job.”

When the glass was finished, Russ plucked it from Jules’ hand and set it on the table next to him. He rubbed the other’s back and pushed him gently, ushering him to move. “Time’s ticking, you’re gonna pass out from all that shit in about four minutes, babe.”

“So you’re gonna extract all the bones in me while I’m knocked out, yeah?” Jules chuckled, but it faltered as he was moved and dizziness swirled. Apparently he was only stable when perfectly still. He made a mental note to suggest some alternatives to stabilize vertigo for the next time this was pumped into either of them. Viscedrine, or vigilyne, or-

“Yup.” Russ interrupted his thoughts playfully. “You’re gonna have a single vertebrae floating around in this hot sack of flesh and you’re gonna say thanks.”

The second needle in Jules was extracted and immediately the laser above darted to the puncture to close it. Jules’ eyes dragged to the IV and followed its cord, finding its source to be a bag of saline hanging behind him, just out of sight from when he’d laid on the table. A few switches were flipped on the console and the mechanical devices retreated to their original positions on the ceiling before Jules was carefully helped off the table, steadied by Russ’ grasp as he stepped down to the floor. As the two moved away from the scene, Russ reached for Jules’ discarded pants to dig through its pockets and extract a dry erase marker. He supported the other’s weight as they carefully walked across the other side of the surgical theatre to a whiteboard, and Russ uncapped the marker, drawing the borders of a door before walking through the revealed opening. They stepped into the soft carpeted hallway and turned left, navigating through the apartment in the dark and entering their bedroom. Blindly they reached the bed and Russ gently pushed Jules into it.

“Mph,” Jules grunted slightly as he was pressed into the soft mattress. He noticed Russ’ grasp on his arm drastically overshadowed his current strength, and he partially took back his previous mental note. Physical weakness and instability  _ was  _ a side effect that might be useful.

“Bet you’re tired,” Russ said. The clink of his belt was heard along with the shuffle of buttons being undone, followed by the mattress shifting as new weight is pressed against it.

"Mhm," Jules quietly affirmed. Details of the room became more clear as his eyes adjusted to the dimness, becoming familiar with the faint glow of city lights obstructed almost entirely by window curtains.

The blanket was draped over his bare body and he relaxed, settling comfortably in its warmth. Fingers were felt on top of his head and brushed through his hair once again, combing the strands idly as Russ shifted closer to him under the sheets. Jules turned slowly and blindly nosed into his roommate's sweater while his hands searched up to cling to the other's slim waist. Russ’ arms lowered, draping over Jules’ and resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Tomorrow…should run a couple tests. Check your levels—the uh…anxiety properties should be about the same, but we should make sure.”

“That wasn’t just an elaborate fuck sesh?” Jules mumbled into his chest.

He could hear the smile in Russ’ voice as he replied. “No, it absolutely was, but it was also your meds. Just wanted to see…we could use it for your next dose, too. But I’m also down for just giving head instead of, yanno. Cutting you open before that.”

“Mmm,” Jules nuzzled into Russ’ warmth.

His breathing steadied as the other pet his thumb over his skin. To go through what they did again would be far from hardship.

Distantly, it occurred to him that their experiment was left untouched and incomplete, yet that thought had very little impact against the strokes’ soothing lull gently drifting him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Jude <3
> 
> Special thanks to [SurgeonRick](https://twitter.com/SurgeonRick), [Left_Handed_Rick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left_Handed_Rick/pseuds/Left_Handed_Rick) and a lovely anonymous friend for their incredible beta-reading skills and hype while working on this.


End file.
